Page 35 of Walking Wounded

“No. It’s called having something in common.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Which is why you should probably start bulking up and get a security job,” she shoots back, smirking in return.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Hey, you want a drink?” Dex offers, sliding away from Tara, but taking hold of her hand as he heads toward the bar.

Luke could go for half a bottle of vodka right about now. But he says, “Nah. Just had coffee.”

“Okay.” Dex pulls beers and knocks the tops off on the edge of the bar, hands one to Tara that she takes a healthy pull of straight off.

Luke chafes at the thought, but he isn’t her family, or even really her friend, so he says nothing.

Over her bottle, Tara shoots him a look that is both a challenge – “say something, asshole” – and a silent plea for approval. The part of him that’s a rent-paying adult disapproves. But the lovesick idiot in him, who will always be denied what he really wants, can’t help but applaud her.

He nods, and she smiles.

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